


promise not to fade away

by you_explode



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Harry, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff, Love at First Sight, M/M, New Year's Eve, Strangers to Lovers, Top Louis, essentially, slightly like everything else i write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9128125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_explode/pseuds/you_explode
Summary: "Louis doesn’t take his eyes off Harry for the rest of his set. He doesn’t even drink his pint. He just watches, and listens, and is completely enraptured by this boy with his curls and his velvet voice. Harry plays a mixture of originals and covers (songs Louis loves, by the way, so he’s got great taste as well), and in between songs he’s cheeky and charming, and Louis is desperate to know him."Louis is an A&R rep, and Harry is a singer/songwriter. They meet on New Years Eve.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been to a First Night, and I’ve been to Boston, but I’ve never been to a First Night Boston. so this is not accurate by any means. it was also written in a very short amount of time, mostly because I just wanted to post something before this year ended, and so it hasn't been beta'd or looked over meticulously. this is my attempt at just posting something without obsessing over it. 
> 
> many many thanks to Vera (as always) for being my last-minute cheerleader <3
> 
> title is from Muse's Starlight, and there's also a playlist [here](https://8tracks.com/you_explode/promise-not-to-fade-away) because I realised I was mentioning a lot of songs and figured I should link them.

It’s been a busy, hellish year. It seems like the world turned absolutely upside down. On top of that, work was mad, and Louis was constantly on the go, never having time to go out and have any fun. This trip to the States was Liam’s idea, to finally let loose, to have a lad’s holiday and ring in the new year somewhere different for a change.  
  
They’d left on Boxing Day, because Louis could never spend Christmas away from his family, and they met Niall their first day in New York. He didn’t want to go to Times Square for New Years because of the crowds, and Louis and Liam wanted to stay with him, and besides they hadn’t had any concrete plans anyway. Niall had heard of something called First Night, in Boston, where people roam the streets and partake in different group festivities – so here they are. In Boston. Freezing their tits off.  
  
They don’t mean to go into the pub for the musician. Well, Niall seems interested in what he’s reading off the brochure – “Seems more our speed than these blues and jazz guys, eh lads? And look, he’s from our side of the pond!” – but Louis’s more interested in getting out of the cold. The guy’s set must have just ended, because people are leaving, which means Liam snags a table right by the small area cleared for a pseudo-stage.  
  
“He’s got another set in half an hour, don’t worry,” Niall says, his head still stuck in the brochure.  
  
Louis flops into his seat, and while shedding his coat, scarf and gloves, he says, “Oh good. I was ever so anxious about missing him.”  
  
“Oh, and there’s someone else in the meantime,” Niall says brightly. “Also from London!”  
  
“Wonderful,” Louis deadpans.  
  
“I’ll get us drinks, then, shall I,” Liam says. “The usual?” Louis and Niall agree, and Liam heads towards the bar, which, despite the people leaving when they entered, is still packed.  
  
Since Niall’s still preoccupied with the brochure, Louis takes the opportunity to look through his sisters’ snaps. Lottie’s out with her boyfriend Tommy, and although it was midnight in Manchester an hour ago – Louis Facetimed her briefly to say Happy New Year – the snaps are still coming. They’re at a club, looks like, which makes sense considering she’s eighteen. There are some snaps from Fizzy as well, at home with their mum and Dan and both sets of twins – the youngest conked out a few hours ago, despite trying to stay up, bless them, and the eldest are fast asleep now too. Louis smiles at his phone. It hasn’t even been a week yet, but he misses them all. Nothing like traveling to make the heart fonder, he supposes.  
  
Liam comes back with the drinks, and Louis’s reaching for his just as a burst of feedback comes through the mic.  
  
“Oops,” a deep voice says with a giggle, and Louis whips his head around, his beer forgotten. It’s a split-second reaction, a gut feeling of needing to see this person, and when Louis does, he feels literally breathless.  
  
The boy standing in front of the mic is easily the most beautiful person Louis’s ever seen. And Louis works in the music industry; being around beautiful people kind of comes with the job. But he’s never seen anyone like this guy before. He’s quite tall, with dark curly hair that falls past his shoulders, and he’s wearing skinny jeans and metallic pink boots and a black shirt covered in colourful, sparkly fireworks. The top half of his shirt’s unbuttoned, exposing a smooth chest and dark tattoos, which is possibly the most unfairly attractive thing about him. He’s smiling at the room as he apologizes for startling them, and he has _dimples_ , and his face is just – the most perfect face Louis’s ever seen. He’s just, actually speechless with how beautiful this guy is, which – Louis’s met Lady Gaga, Elton John, Robbie Williams, and the bloomin’ Queen in the last few months, but he feels more starstruck than with all them combined, looking at this unknown boy in a tiny Boston bar.  
  
The guy plugs in an acoustic guitar and adjusts the mic, and then he’s apparently ready.  
  
“Hi,” he says. “I’m Harry.” There’s a smattering of applause and a few whoops; presumably from people who’ve been in this bar all night. Harry beams as he looks around at the crowd and Louis’s heart melts a bit more. “Thank you for spending part of your New Years with me. I’m going to start with one you might know.”  
  
He launches into an acoustic version of Kings of Leon’s Use Somebody, and his _voice_. Louis is an A &R scout, okay, it’s his job to find talent, and this guy right here? This guy is _talented_. His voice is raspy but syrupy, low and clear and Louis could listen to him sing for hours.  
  
He manages to tear his eyes away for a second, just to make eye contact with Liam. Louis widens his eyes as if to say _oh my God he is incredible_ , and Liam nods with wide eyes of his own. Niall’s bopping along, no need to get his approval.  
  
Louis doesn’t take his eyes off Harry for the rest of his set. He doesn’t even drink his pint. He just watches, and listens, and is completely enraptured by this boy with his curls and his velvet voice. Harry plays a mixture of originals and covers (songs Louis _loves_ , by the way, so he’s got great taste as well), and in between songs he’s cheeky and charming, and Louis is desperate to know him.  
  
Harry’s not unaware of it either. Every now and then, he’ll look at Louis, keep eye contact for a few seconds, and then smile down at his guitar. It’s utterly endearing.  
  
Louis’s favourite moment is when Harry sings Rihanna’s Umbrella. He manages to make a basically forgotten pop song from almost a decade ago sound new and exciting. He pours himself into it and it’s clear he’s enjoying himself, he makes it fun. He has the entire packed bar chanting the chorus, and Louis feels like he’s witnessing something magical.  
  
As soon as Harry finishes his set, Louis’s out of his seat and vaulted the few steps over to the small stage. Harry looks up from wrapping his guitar cord around his wrist.  
  
“Hi,” Louis says. “I’m Louis. You’re amazing.”  
  
Harry looks stunned for a second, and then he giggles. “Thank you,” he says.  
  
And look, Louis is only in the States for a few weeks. He’s only in Boston for a few days. He has no time to be shy, he’s got to take this chance while he can. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asks.  
  
The pleased look that spreads across Harry’s face sends tingles down Louis’s spine. “Yes,” Harry says. “I’d love that. Um, I’ve got to put my stuff away, then I’ll come back out?”  
  
Louis grins back at him, feeling excitement run through his body. “’Course, love,” he says. “Just don’t lose me amongst all your admirers.”  
  
Harry giggles again, and looks out at the crowd. Most of which have given their attention back to their friends and drinks, although there’s a table of girls who wave at him and whistle. “I’ll find you,” Harry says, very seriously given the smile on his face.  
  
Louis grins back and lets him pack up, going back to his table and finally picking up his beer.  
  
Niall whistles. “What’s that about then?”  
  
Louis shrugs. “Gonna buy him a drink, see if he’s got a label.”  
  
“Lou,” Liam groans. “We’re on holidays.”  
  
Louis raises his eyebrows. “You want to let him get away? Seriously?”  
  
Niall’s nose is buried in the brochure again, and he pops his head up to say, “There’s no mention of a label here.”  
  
Louis gives a quiet cheer. Liam rolls his eyes.  
  
“Though I am disappointed you weren’t trying to pull,” Niall says, frowning.  
  
Louis frowns too. “I mean,” he says. “Business first. I’d rather discover the next indie pop darling than have a quick shag and never see him again.”  
  
“At least he considered the shag,” he hears Liam mutter to Niall, and Louis kicks his shin for it.  
  
“Besides,” Louis says. “You don’t know if he’s even gay.”  
  
“Uh, I saw the way he was looking at you,” Niall says. “Trust me, he’s pretty gay.”  
  
Louis chooses to ignore that. “C’mon Liam,” he says. “You can’t tell me you didn’t spend the last thirty minutes plotting out his marketing campaign.”  
  
Liam sighs and finally gives in. “Of course I did,” he says. “Just. Take it easy, yeah? The whole point of this trip is to get away from work.”  
  
Louis rolls his eyes. “I don’t think a few minutes of chatting to this lad’ll kill me.”  
  
*  
  
He’s absolutely wrong. He knows he is as soon as Harry comes out to their table, smiles with his dimples and says, “I found you.” He’s got to be the cutest person alive and Louis is so immediately taken with him it’s embarrassing.  
  
Louis whisks him off to the bar instead of introducing him to Liam and Niall. He knows he’s being rude, but he doesn’t actually care.  
  
“What d’you want to drink?” Louis asks as they get in line.  
  
“Oh, um,” Harry cranes his neck to look at the bar. Louis wants to bite it. Fuck. “Pink moscato, I think.”  
  
Louis tries to suppress his smile, but fuck. That’s cute. “Sweet wine it is,” he says with a wink, and Harry smiles.  
  
It’s not exactly awkward as they stand in line. They chat about where they’re from (Harry’s actually from Cheshire, not London) and how long they’ve been in the States (Harry’s only been here a few months, it’s only a visit, which bodes well for Louis) and then they’re at the bar. Louis orders Harry’s moscato and another round for himself and the lads, and Harry helps him carry them back to the table.  
  
By the time they get back, a ginger lad is already set up and playing his own acoustic guitar. He’s no Harry, but his voice is lovely.  
  
“Friend of yours?” Louis asks, tipping his head in the lad’s direction as they set their drinks down.  
  
Harry smiles. “Mm, that’s Ed,” he says as they sit down. “S’my best friend, he’s the reason I came out here.”  
  
“Nice,” Louis says, and Liam kicks him under the table. Right. “Uh, Harry, this is Liam, and that’s Niall. Liam and I came out here together, and we picked up Niall in a pub in New York.”  
  
“Nice to meet you,” Harry says, dimpling at them. Niall and Liam heap praises on him while Louis takes a moment to appreciate that the current performer, Ed, really is quite good also.  
  
“So,” Louis says when Liam and Niall appear to be finished. “Tell us more of your story, Harold. What brought you and Ed here tonight?”  
  
“Well,” Harry says. “Ed’s actually living in New York at the moment, gigging around and hoping to get noticed. I was out here visiting him. Back in London I work in a bakery, and I also work on my music and do regular gigs and stuff. So I took the time off to come out here, and I ended up playing gigs with Ed around the city. We play separately and together. And then he got asked to perform here tonight, because he’s friends with the owner of this bar, and he asked me to come along, so. Here I am.”  
  
Louis is pretty sure it took Harry about five minutes to get that story out, with how slowly he talks. And Louis is nothing but utterly charmed.  
  
“So you don’t have a label, then?” he asks, leaning forward, and ignores Liam narrowing his eyes across the table.  
  
“No,” Harry says, his cheeks pinking. “I’ve never – I mean. I guess I’m not good enough? I’ve sent demos around, but...”  
  
That just won’t do. “Well, Harold,” Louis says. “I may have neglected to mention it, but it just so happens that Liam and I work for Sony Music. And we definitely think you’re good enough.”  
  
“Wait,” Harry says, his brows creased in confusion. Louis’s stomach twists with how badly he wants to kiss him. Fuck, _focus_. “You’re what? You – really?”  
  
“Yeah,” Liam says with a sigh. “I’m in marketing and Louis is A &R.”  
  
“So I kiiiinda know what I’m talking about,” Louis says. “I see artists every day, and I haven’t seen anyone like you in a really long time.” Maybe ever, but he’s not going to say that.  
  
Confusingly, Harry doesn’t actually seem pleased to hear that. But eventually his brows unfurl, and he smiles, though somehow differently from his previous smiles.  
  
“You’re really – you’re not fucking with me?”  
  
“No, love,” Louis says with a smile. “We actually wanted to ask if you had a demo, or if we could get your details, anything really – ”  
  
“Lou’s very desperate not to lose you,” Liam says. Louis almost rolls his eyes. He’s not going to let it go, is he?  
  
But it makes Harry smile, more genuinely than before. Louis’s not sure he’ll ever get over those dimples. “Really?”  
  
“You’re special, Harry,” Louis says. “And I know I’d love to sign you. Ed too.”  
  
“Okay, wow,” Harry says, and he fumbles with the pockets of his very tight jeans for a bit before coming up with a business card. “Um, I’m supposed to be in New York for the next month, but you can contact me anytime.”  
  
Louis is so charmed by the fact that this boy has a business card for his music, and even moreso when he looks at it – _Harry Styles_ , it says. _Singer, Songwriter, Musician, Baker_. Adorable. There’s his mobile number, his email, and a link to his soundcloud. Perfect.  
  
“Harry Styles,” Louis says. “With a name like that, you’re made for the spotlight, aren’t you?”  
  
Harry flushes, and Liam says, “Make sure to get one off Ed for us too, will you? He’s fantastic as well.”  
  
Harry agrees readily, and they spend the rest of Ed’s set talking about music and listening to Ed. Louis can’t help but notice how well they fit together, the four of them. He also can’t help feeling this magnetic pull to Harry, like he wants to listen to him talk for hours, like he wants to sit beside him forever. It’s fucking weird; Louis’s never felt so deeply attached to someone after knowing them for a matter of minutes. But he’s also never been so _attracted_ to someone, so. That’s probably all this is.  
  
*  
  
When Ed’s finished, Harry gets up, thanks Louis for the drink, and then joins Ed at the small stage area. He says something to Ed, and points at Louis’s table. Ed looks over and Louis waves. Ed waves back. Louis isn’t completely sure what’s going on.  
  
“So,” Ed says into the mic. “I’m not actually finished yet! This is my best mate Harry, and as we’ve done a few times tonight, we’re going to play a set together before I take a break and he takes over. Thanks for sticking around.”  
  
Harry’s pulled forward the mic stand over by the wall that Louis hadn’t noticed before, and they launch into Jason Mraz’s I’m Yours.  
  
It’s amazing. Together they manage to give off the vibe of two mates having a jam together, while also sounding phenomenal. Louis is so into it. Now that he’s paying attention, he’s even more impressed by Ed, but honestly, unsurprisingly, he can’t stop watching Harry.  
  
After a few more songs, they close with Under Pressure, with Harry singing Freddie’s parts and Ed singing Bowie’s, and it’s perfect, the perfect song to end this shithole year, the perfect tribute to Bowie, the perfect blend of their voices. Louis doesn’t want it to end.  
  
Unfortunately, it does. Niall leans over and tells Louis he recorded that, just in case Louis wants it. Louis reluctantly says that yes, he definitely does.  
  
Ed announces that there’ll be a ten minute break this time, and then they’re putting aside Ed’s guitar and coming over to Louis’s table.  
  
“Hey there,” Ed says. “I hear you guys are a pretty big deal?”  
  
Louis laughs. “Not as big a deal as the two of you,” he says. “That was absolutely incredible, mate. The two of you together are just – holy shit!”  
  
Ed grins, and Harry looks pleased as well.  
  
“Agreed,” Niall says. “Let me get you both a pint, yeah?”  
  
“I won’t say no to that,” Ed says, and Louis says, “Moscato for Harry, I think.”  
  
Harry blushes and nods. “Please,” he says. Louis wants to wrap him up in his arms and never let him go.  
  
Niall nods and leaves for the bar, and Liam introduces himself and Louis.  
  
“We’re very interested in the two of you,” Liam says. “Together, or separately, or whatever, really.”  
  
“I don’t actually have a profesh business card like Hazza here,” Ed says with a laugh. “But I can give you my details? This is so fuckin’ unexpected, honestly.”  
  
“Tell me about it,” Harry says softly. He’s quieter now, with Ed here. Louis can’t help being intrigued by that, and also jealous of Ed, and of everyone in Harry’s life who knows him better than Louis does.  
  
Fuck, it really didn’t seem like too intense a feeling until he thought about it like that.  
  
Ed gives Liam his details, and Louis attempts to coax more smiles out of a quieter Harry by complimenting his last performance. When Harry does smile, Louis yells, “There those devastating dimples are!” and Harry doesn’t wipe the smile off his face after that. Niall gets back in time for Harry to quickly drink his wine, and then he’s getting his guitar off someone Louis doesn’t know and heading back to the stage area.  
  
“Hi everyone,” Harry says, cheeks pinker than before but just as dimpled, just as handsome. “I’m Harry, thanks for spending part of your New Years listening to me.”  
  
Then he starts up a version of Lionel Richie’s Easy Like Sunday Morning. On guitar, it shouldn’t sound as amazing as it does. Louis fucking wishes he had a recording of every song Harry’s sung tonight. He’s in awe of how this boy makes every song sound even better. There’s something about the cadence of Harry’s voice, along with the simple melody of the song, that makes Louis feel something he’s never felt about this song before. He’s right there with Harry, he feels the pain in the song loud and clear, and he’s simultaneously back somewhere in his childhood with the last time he heard this song, and in bed with Harry on a slow, easy Sunday morning.  
  
It’s beautiful. He doesn’t think an artist has ever made him feel as much before.  
  
Ten minutes into Harry’s set, Niall is tugging at his sleeve to get his attention and telling him he wants to go. They’ve spent an hour here, he says, and there are other places he wants to see. Louis is absolutely loathe to leave Harry, especially mid-set, but there are so many people out tonight and he doesn’t want to lose his friends either.  
  
“We’ll be finished here at eleven,” Ed’s saying, while Louis can’t keep his eyes off Harry singing Fleetwood Mac’s Everywhere. “Maybe we’ll run into you again.”  
  
“Hope so, mate,” Liam’s saying. “And if not, you’ll definitely be hearing from us.”  
  
Harry finishes the song and Louis lets himself be pulled from the table. He waves goodbye to Harry, who gives him a sad-looking smile back (Louis wonders if he’s imagining that) and a wave. He’s dragged by Niall through the crowd to the sound of Harry singing Kelly Clarkson’s I Do Not Hook Up (a thrill shoots up his spine when Harry doesn’t change the pronouns, as it has all night), and Louis hates it. He wants to stay in this dingy pub forever.  
  
*  
  
Louis loves Boston. It’s like London and New York had a very clean baby. He _loves_ it. And right now it’s lovely, with Christmas lights lining the streets and snow alongside the footpaths; it’s charming and quaint but very much still a city, and Louis is very happy to be here.  
  
He’d be happier, though, if he were back inside the pub Harry’s singing in and not being pulled from building to building by a very enthusiastic Niall and Liam. He has I Do Not Hook Up stuck in his head, despite all the different music he’s heard in the last hour, he’s stuck on Harry singing that song and wondering if he meant it.  
  
It’s dumb to even be wondering. It’s part of his set, for one, he’s clearly been playing the song long before he met Louis. And it's just a fucking song. But Louis wonders if that’s how he operates – if he doesn’t hook up, if he goes slow, if he falls deep. It’s dumb. It’s so fucking dumb. But Louis’s spent the last hour obsessing over Harry instead of paying attention to anything his friends have dragged him to, and he’s starting to wonder how on earth he expects to be professional about this.  
  
At ten o’clock – and Louis’s not even going to pretend that there isn’t a countdown in his head, not to midnight but to when Harry and Ed finish at the pub – when they’re heading to Copley Square, Louis stops in his tracks. Liam stops and pulls Niall to a stop as well, and they both turn and look at Louis, who can only stare back at them.  
  
“Fuck,” he says finally. “I can’t, can I? I can’t be professional.”  
  
Liam looks concerned. “About what, Lou? What’s wrong?”  
  
Niall suddenly whoops. “Is this about Harry?”  
  
“I have a huge fucking stupid crush on him,” Louis says. “After knowing him for an _hour_. I don’t – how am I supposed to be on his team?”  
  
“Hey,” Liam says comfortingly, rubbing his hand down Louis’s back. “Hey, it’s okay. It wouldn’t be the first time an artist got involved with management.”  
  
Louis gives him his most withering look. “And it’s a dumb fucking idea every time.”  
  
“Well, yeah,” Liam says. “But look, it’s not the end of the world. You don’t actually have to be involved with him, professionally I mean. And – you know, who knows what’ll happen. I think it’s important you acknowledge your feelings and chase them. That’s more important than anything.”  
  
Jesus Christ. When did Liam become the wise one?  
  
“Who knows what will happen,” Louis echoes faintly. Yeah. “He probably doesn’t feel the same, anyway – ”  
  
“Oh Christ you’re thick if you think that,” Niall explodes. “I’ve held me tongue, yeah, but you’ve been ridiculous all night. Fuck your job, you should’ve gotten his number for _you_.”  
  
Louis's defensive at that. “It’s not impossible that he might not be interested, Niall.”  
  
“Um, yes it fucking is,” Niall says. “Did you see his face when he realised you were only after him for your label? He was fucking crushed. He thought you liked him, there’s no doubt in me mind.”  
  
Louis’s stomach turns, and he frowns. “Even if that’s true,” he says, and Niall makes a face. “ _Even if it’s true_. I want to sign him. He’s a fucking star, I want the world to see him shine.” He wraps his arms around himself, feeling even colder. “That comes first, I don’t care what you say. I just, don’t see how I’m going to be professional about that when I’m obsessed with his face.”  
  
Liam frowns. “Well, even if you signed him, doesn’t mean you have to be the one working with him,” he says. “I say, you let him know how you feel. It’s New Years. You should start the year how you want to spend it.”  
  
Louis rolls his eyes.  
  
“ _Tell him_ ,” Niall insists. “Deal with the rest of it later.”  
  
Louis’s stomach stops turning and he feels less queasy as he considers it. Could it really be that simple? That easy? Though, really, even in their brief interaction, he feels like everything with Harry has been easy. Could be easy.  
  
Maybe this doesn’t have to be difficult. Complicated, maybe. But if Harry feels the same... It’s worth a try, isn’t it?  
  
“Okay,” he croaks, then clears his throat. “Okay. Yeah. I will.”  
  
“Thank fuckin’ Christ,” Niall says, looping an arm around Louis’s neck and walking him towards the square. “Now let’s get you a drink, we need ta’ fuckin’ celebrate!”  
  
*  
  
It’s been a good night. Lots of drinking, lots of music, some ice sculptures, some art, loads of happy people, all against a backdrop of blurring lights. Louis’s enjoyed the last hour, dancing in middle of Copley Square with his friends, but his countdown to eleven has ended and now he’s feeling antsy.  
  
Harry’s out there. He’s left the pub, presumably, and he’s out there somewhere. Louis could turn around and see him at any moment, and the thought sets off fireworks in his chest.  
  
It’s all up to fate now.  
  
“I texted Ed,” Liam yells over the band. “Told him we were here if he and Harry wanted to find us.”  
  
Or not. It’s all up to Liam, apparently.  
  
“How’d you have Ed’s number?” Louis asks, and it dawns on him the same time Liam says that they have his details now. Okay. Louis might be a bit drunk.  
  
At least Niall’s drunker – drunker than Louis’s ever seen him, actually, in this whole week of knowing him. He was starting to think that Niall didn’t visibly show signs of drunkenness, but he’s definitely showing them now. Louis thinks he might be drinking more to deal with the crowds, he has mentioned his claustrophobia several times, and Louis pulls him in and asks if he’s okay. The crowd around them is quite large – not suffocatingly so, but probably about as thick as a festival crowd.  
  
“M’ alright,” Niall says. “Beer helps,” he adds, and then giggles. Louis squeezes his head. “S’not as bad as Times Square. S’quite sparse. I can see a way out. S’all good, Tommo.” He smiles brightly, his cheeks red, and Louis kisses the side of his head and lets him go.  
  
They dance for another half hour, the pop/rock band onstage playing a mix of covers and originals. Louis wonders idly if that was a requirement for all the artists playing tonight. A new song starts up, just a plucking of keys for a few bars, and just as Louis recognises it as Muse’s Starlight, Liam spins him around to see Harry and Ed standing a few feet away, at the edge of the group of people they’re in.  
  
“ _Starlight, I will be chasing your starlight, until the end of my life..._ ” the band on stage sing, and Louis watches as Ed bounds over to Niall and Liam, and Harry hangs back and watches him.  
  
Louis makes his way to Harry. It feels like time slows down, the song playing echoing in his head and the people blurring around him. All he can see is Harry.  
  
“ _Hold you in my arms... I just wanted to hold you in my arms..._ ”  
  
“Hi,” Louis says when he reaches Harry, and Harry smiles at him. Louis’s heart clenches. He wasn’t exaggerating any of it; this boy affects him in a way no one else ever has.  
  
“Hi,” Harry says. “I like this song.”  
  
“Me too,” Louis grins. “I’m glad you’re here. How was the rest of your set?”  
  
“Good,” Harry says, then he frowns. “I kind of... wished you were there.”  
  
Louis’s heart leaps up into his throat. “I wished I was there too,” he says. “Um, will you – do you wanna dance? With me?”  
  
A smile blooms across Harry’s face like the breaking of day and he nods. Louis takes his wrist and pulls him over to where Liam, Niall and Ed are jumping together.  
  
They dance to the rest of the song, not exactly touching, but Louis thinks it’s kind of clear that they’re dancing _together_ and not just next to each other. He’s not sure. He needs to talk to Harry, probably, but he’s so drunk and he’s so attracted to this boy and he doesn’t know what to do. He just wants to dance with a cute boy and worry about anything else later.  
  
Louis doesn’t know the next song, so he assumes it’s one of the band’s originals. It’s just a bit slower, and he thinks fuck it, and turns to face Harry. He gently puts his hands on Harry’s waist, and raises his eyebrows, silently asking if it’s okay.  
  
Harry brings his arms up around Louis’s neck, and they’re suddenly very close. Louis is enveloped in Harry’s cologne, it’s sweeter than most men’s colognes and Louis kind of wants to bury his face in Harry’s neck. Fuck.  
  
He looks up at Harry instead. They’re slowly swaying, slower than the song, and Louis has to ask. “This okay?”  
  
Harry nods quickly, biting his lip. “Definitely,” he says.  
  
“Can I...” Louis wonders, and pulls Harry in a bit closer. Harry relaxes into him, his arms tightening around Louis’s neck, and it just. It just feels _right_.  
  
“I didn’t think you liked me,” Harry says, so quiet Louis almost misses it, and his stomach and his heart both do a backflip.  
  
“We probably should talk about that,” Louis says quietly, then pulls back just a bit to look Harry in the eye. “I do,” he says, louder, feeling bold. He’s sure of this one thing at least. “I like you. It’s kind of ridiculous how much I like you, given that I just met you. And I want – I mean, Harry, you’re a star. You already are. I want to show you off to the world, I want to make you the most successful artist in history, but I don’t know how to do that if I’m also kind of obsessed with you.”  
  
Harry’s arms around him pull him closer until they’re basically hugging. Harry holds him tight and Louis holds him back even tighter and it feels like they just _get_ each other.  
  
Harry eventually pulls back enough so they can see each other again. “I was so worried you didn’t feel the same way,” he says. “I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you. When I realised you weren’t interested in me like that, I dunno. I just felt devastated.”  
  
“I am interested,” Louis insists. “Like that and every other way.”  
  
Harry giggles. “Good,” he says. “To be clear, I haven’t thought about anything other than you since I first saw you.”  
  
Louis feels like he could float to the sky.  
  
They dance for what feels like days and also minutes; Louis completely loses track of time, absorbed in Harry, Harry’s smell, Harry’s warmth. His skin feels like it’s on fire everywhere Harry’s touching him, and it’s impossible to Louis that he felt cold earlier. There’s no way this is a cold night.  
  
He’s so lost in Harry that he’s completely startled when the band goes quiet and people start chanting. Counting down, they’re counting down because it’s New Years Eve and it’s almost midnight. Holy shit.  
  
Louis looks at Harry, who seems as surprised as he is, and then he looks over at Liam, just to check on him. Liam’s cheeks are flushed, he looks bright and happy as he yells numbers with Niall and Ed. Louis turns back to Harry.  
  
Harry’s cheeks are flushed too, but in a different way, Louis thinks, and Harry moves his hands from around Louis’s neck to cup his face. Louis smiles, and Harry smiles, and when the countdown ends and people start screaming “Happy New Year!”, surrounded by noise and flashing lights, he and Harry lean in at the same time.  
  
It’s the best kiss Louis’s ever had, hands down. It’s a quick press of lips, a slide of Harry’s mouth over his, and it deepens without hesitancy, with neither of them holding back. If Louis felt like he was on fire at Harry’s touch, it’s nothing to how he feels now. He’s a supernova, and he can’t get enough.  
  
Louis’s never put much stock into New Years kisses, but this one is the pinnacle. He feels like there’s nothing more important, nothing more _right_ than this moment.  
  
They’re startled apart by a particularly loud firework. There’s a long, loud burst of fireworks that follow, and Louis realises a whole pyrotechnics display has been going on without him noticing. There’s a fucking pyrotechnics display going on inside Louis, so he thinks that takes priority.  
  
Harry’s hands have left Louis, and he’s covering his ears and wincing. He looks adorable, and Louis wants to protect him at all costs. He pulls him in closer, into a proper hug, and Harry relaxes against him, hands still over his ears.  
  
“I don’t like fireworks,” Harry mumbles into Louis’s ear, and Louis chuckles and squeezes him tighter. He’d figured that out.  
  
He wants to shuttle Harry off somewhere quieter, but the crowd around them has gotten thicker and he can’t see an easy way out. (Louis glances at Niall when he realises that, but Niall, Liam, and Ed are all watching the display in awe, all of them with their phones out recording. He seems alright, then.) Harry seems content to burrow into Louis, but the display really is very pretty, so Louis spins him around so that his back is against Louis and they can both see. Louis puts his hands over Harry’s, so they’re both covering his ears, and Harry doesn’t flinch quite as much the next time a firework goes off.  
  
Eventually the display ends, and Harry turns around to face Louis again as the band starts playing Auld Lang Syne. He looks sheepish.  
  
“Sorry about that,” Harry says, clearly embarrassed. “’ve never been a huge fan of fireworks.”  
  
“S’okay,” Louis says, because of course it is. “Just – why’d you come out here, if you didn’t want to be around the fireworks?”  
  
Harry looks even more embarrassed, somehow. “I wasn’t going to,” he says. “Was planning on being as far away from here as possible, or at least inside. But Ed said you were here. So.”  
  
Oh. _Oh_. Fuck.  
  
Louis has to kiss him at that, so he does. Harry responds instantly, his hands on Louis’s cheeks and his tongue in his mouth, and Louis’s heart swoops. There’s just something about kissing Harry. It’s technically only their second kiss, Louis supposes, so maybe it shouldn’t make a plethora of feelings come alive in Louis’s chest. But it fucking _does_. It feels fucking life-changing.  
  
He doesn’t want to let Harry go. He doesn’t want this night to end. He doesn’t know how to carry on with his life after feeling something like this. How does he go back to his hectic London life, back to his lonely, empty flat, knowing Harry’s out there in the world?  
  
The thought makes him clutch Harry tighter, press their bodies together harder, and _fuck_ – Harry’s hard, just as hard as Louis is, and the thought that this could go further makes Louis desperate, makes him rut against Harry a bit and kiss him deeper.  
  
Harry breaks away after a minute, says, “Fuck, Louis,” and drops his head onto Louis’s shoulder. It’s then that Louis comes back to himself, a bit, realises they’re in _public_ – at least the band is still playing, people are still dancing, nobody’s paying him and Harry any mind. But fuck.  
  
Harry picks his head up and looks at him, his big, green eyes so dark, and Louis just knows, intrinsically, without a doubt, that they’re on the same page.  
  
He asks anyway: “Can we get out of here?”  
  
Harry nods, quick and sure. “Definitely. Um,” he pauses, blushing a bit. “Me’n Ed are staying in a hostel, we’ve only a twin bed each.”  
  
Louis smiles. “I’ve got a private room,” he says. “Splurged a bit, didn’t feel like sharing.”  
  
“Lucky you,” Harry says, grinning, and Louis leans in and pecks his mouth. He finds that’s his immediate response to Harry; he just wants to kiss him, always. He’s decided to go with it.  
  
Harry deepens the kiss instantly, and Louis responds in kind until there’s a burst of feedback from the stage. It’s so reminiscent of earlier tonight, of the first time he saw Harry, that Louis breaks the kiss to look at the stage. Seems the band are finishing.  
  
Louis looks at Harry questioningly, although he’s not sure why he thinks Harry would have any idea what’s going on either, and then someone claps a hand on his back. Louis jumps, and twists his head to see Liam, Niall and Ed.  
  
“Wahey,” Niall says. “What’s going on here?”  
  
“Shove it, Irish,” Louis says. Harry giggles and Niall looks comically offended.  
  
Liam’s beaming. “The live music’s over now, Lou. We were thinking about heading to a pub, not quite ready to call it a night yet.”  
  
Louis hears what he’s trying to do: give Louis an excuse to spend more time with Harry. Thing is, he doesn’t think he needs an excuse.  
  
“Actually,” Louis says. “I think we were gonna go back to my room, maybe?”  
  
The lads look a bit surprised, but when Louis looks at Harry, all he can see is contentment.  
  
“Yup,” Harry says. “You okay without me?” he asks Ed, who rolls his eyes and scoffs.  
  
“That’s settled then,” Louis says, taking Harry’s hand. “If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen.”  
  
Their departure isn’t actually that dramatic, because the dispersing crowd is moving so slowly that he and Harry can barely go anywhere. Louis glances back at his friends, who are laughing at him, and pouts over at Harry.  
  
Harry grins. “Know what this gives us time for?” he asks, and doesn’t give Louis a chance to guess before he’s kissing him.  
  
They move with the crowd at a snail’s pace, kissing as they wait, and at one point, when Louis looks around, he realises he can’t see Liam, Niall, or Ed anymore.  
  
“We’ve moved further than I thought,” he says.  
  
“Mm,” Harry agrees. “I keep losing track of, like, everything. Kissing you is – it’s weird.”  
  
He’s frowning, and Louis laughs. “Weird? Wow. Thanks for the compliment, Harold. I’m flattered.”  
  
“Noooo,” Harry says, shaking his head and smiling. “I mean, it’s just, different? You’re different. It’s good, I just mean, I’m like, forgetting that anything else exists.”  
  
He’s lucky Louis feels the exact same way, because he’s not making a lot of sense. “Well, if it helps, it’s completely mutual,” Louis says, and Harry looks pleased.  
  
“That does help,” he says.  
  
Miraculously, the crowd starts to thin out, and Louis can finally lead Harry towards his hotel at a better pace. Really, he wants to run, but he’s pretty sure that’d fall on the unattractive side of desperate.  
  
*  
  
Having Harry in his hotel bed is easily better than anything that happened in 2016. He’s unlike any hook-up Louis’s ever had – there’s as many giggles as there are kisses, Harry hung off his back as he unlocked the door like every cliché Louis’s never actually experienced, and Louis doesn’t even feel self-conscious about the clothes strewn all over the room. Well, he does a tiny bit, but Harry doesn’t seem to care one bit, he’d just shoved all the clothes off the bed and flung himself onto it. He’s too inviting for Louis to give much of a shit about anything else.  
  
“I feel like,” Louis says in between kisses, “I should be offering you a drink.”  
  
Harry giggles. “I’d rather not delay this, f’m honest,” he says, also between kisses. They’re both quite good at kiss-talking, Louis thinks. “We can have drinks later, if you feel like you need to be a good host.”  
  
“I don’t, really,” Louis says, and focuses his attention on peeling off Harry’s ridiculous jeans.  
  
Something sparks in his brain, between his thought of Harry not being like his previous hook-ups, and Harry singing I Do Not Hook Up. Louis pauses when he gets Harry’s jeans around his knees, and he looks up.  
  
Harry’s shirtless, propped up on his elbows. He’s essentially naked, save for his pants, and he’s littered in tattoos and Louis wants to lick every inch of him. He has bloody love handles, which Louis doesn't think he's ever seen on someone so lean and toned.  
  
So it takes him a moment, but he remembers what he wanted to ask. “Do you do this often?”  
  
Harry gives him a confused smile. “What, meet A &R agents, get essentially offered a record deal, then make out with said agent and have them stall while getting my pants off? Not exactly, no.”  
  
Such cheek. Louis flicks his knee. “No,” he says. “I meant, you know, the whole, meeting strangers, random hook-up kind of thing.”  
  
“Oh,” Harry says. He looks thoughtful. “No, actually. I mean. I like there to be a connection, you know.”  
  
Yep. That’s what Louis thought. He feels kind of shitty and he’s not sure why, so he finishes yanking Harry’s jeans off and and crawls back up the bed.  
  
“Is it dumb to say,” Harry says. “That I feel like there’s a connection here? I dunno, I just...”  
  
Louis feels so much better that he has to cut him off with a kiss. “No, it’s not,” he says when he eventually pulls himself away. “It’s not dumb. I feel it too. I can’t believe I just met you tonight.”  
  
The smile Harry gives him is like starlight all on its own. Louis is in awe of him.  
  
“God, you’re beautiful,” Louis says.  
  
Harry crinkles his nose. “No you,” he says, and Louis could argue that all night, so he kisses him instead.  
  
Harry deepens the kiss instantly and Louis rolls on top of him. Fuck, having Harry all laid out like this is incredible. Louis runs his hands over Harry’s chest and marvels in the way he feels, the way his silky soft skin creates sparks under Louis’s fingertips. Harry’s breath catches when Louis rubs his fingers over a nipple, and Louis pinches his nipple until Harry’s moaning into the kiss.  
  
He’s so fucking hot, and Louis grinds down, finds out that Harry is as hard as he is and grinds even harder. Harry breaks the kiss to moan, and then he pulls Louis’s shirt off. And holy fuck, if Louis thought touching Harry’s skin was magical before, it’s nothing compared to having his whole chest pressed against Harry’s. He feels like all of his nerve endings are alight.  
  
“I know it’s a lot,” Harry gasps. “And it’s okay if you don’t want to – I want to do anything, everything with you, but – Lou, please will you fuck me?"  
  
Louis closes his eyes, drops his head onto Harry’s shoulder and moans at that. His hips involuntarily push down harder. Harry sucks a kiss against Louis’s neck, and Jesus Christ, why are Louis’s jeans still on? Why is Harry still in his pants?  
  
“Fuck, we need to be naked, like, yesterday,” he mutters, then lifts his head up when Harry laughs. “Yeah, I mean, if you’re sure? But I’d absolutely love to fuck you.”  
  
“I’m definitely sure. I usually move a lot slower than this,” Harry says, amusement in his voice as he reaches down and unbuttons Louis’s jeans. “But you’re just... there’s something about you. I don’t want to go slow.”  
  
“Me neither,” Louis says, kissing him again briefly. He feels like he wants to punctuate all his sentences with kissing Harry. That feels right.  
  
Louis rolls to his feet and pulls off his jeans. Harry’s watching him with absolute hunger in his eyes and a shiver runs down Louis’s spine. Shit. He can’t believe this is happening.  
  
“Give me a second,” Louis says and turns around to find his suitcase. He rummages around in it until he finds the plastic bag from the pharmacy – bless Liam, honestly, and his insistence on buying condoms and lube because “it’s New Years, Lou, anything could happen!” Louis vows to not make fun of Liam the next time he tries to be responsible. (He is one hundred per cent sure he will not keep this vow.)  
  
When he turns back to the bed, Harry’s got his underwear off and he’s stroking himself, and Louis almost drops the condoms and lube. His mouth actually runs dry because Harry is a fucking vision. His cock is nice and big, long and thick kind of like his body, and Louis is sort of in love with it.  
  
That’s a weird thought to have. But it’s how he feels.  
  
He drops the lube and condoms on the bed, and scowls at Harry. “Rude,” he says. “Starting without me.”  
  
“No,” Harry says, without taking his hand off his cock. _Rude._ “You started it, then you left me. And bent over right in front of me. What was I supposed to do?”  
  
“You may have a point,” Louis concedes. “But you’re going to stop touching yourself right now.”  
  
Harry’s eyes widen and he actually does it, lifts his hands and folds them together on his chest.  
  
“Good boy,” Louis says. “I don’t want to restrain you just yet.”  
  
He’s half joking, testing the waters, but Harry fucking whimpers and his cock twitches and Louis files that knowledge away. He’s still standing beside the bed, which just won’t do, so he pulls off his own underwear – his dick’s so hard it sort of springs out, which Louis always thinks looks hilarious – and climbs back on top of Harry.  
  
“Can I touch you?” Harry asks, and fuck if that doesn’t go right to Louis’s dick. He nods, and leans in to kiss Harry as Harry’s hands roam over his hips and down to squeeze his arse, which, _fuck_.  
  
“You’ll have to fuck me, too, at some point,” Louis says. “Just so you know.”  
  
Harry moans and his hips thrust up. “Mm, I think that can be arranged,” he says, his voice strained.  
  
Louis kisses him, and then he can’t seem to pull himself away. Harry’s hands haven’t left his arse and Louis can’t stop rubbing his fingers over Harry’s nipples. He knows it’s going to get so much better if they could just stop kissing, but he finds it hard to believe anything could be better than this.  
  
“Please,” Harry pulls away to gasp. “Please fuck me, Lou. Feels like I’ve been waiting for _days_.”  
  
Louis manages a chuckle, then kisses his way down Harry’s beautiful chest. He grabs the lube and crawls down until he’s in between Harry’s legs, and with Harry’s gorgeous cock in his face he has to lick at it. Harry makes a choked off sound and Louis ends up blowing him while he fingers him. Harry’s got the sheets clenched in his hands and he’s making these lovely breathy moans, and his precome actually tastes kind of oddly sweet. Louis is sort of in love with the feeling of having Harry’s cock in his mouth while his fingers are inside him. He’s not sure if he’ll ever stop feeling like his skin’s come alive when he’s touching Harry, and that feeling is so much _more_ when Louis is actually inside of him.  
  
“Lou, please,” Harry cries. “Please, I’m ready, I’m gonna come if you don’t – ”  
  
Louis pulls off. “No you won’t,” he says, then twists his fingers and licks a line up Harry’s cock.  
  
Harry swallows heavily. “I won’t,” he agrees, though his voice is strangled and he sounds like it pains him to say it.  
  
Louis could really have some fucking fun with this boy in the future. He’s starting to feel like their tastes align really nicely.  
  
He decides he’s finished making them both wait, and pulls his fingers out. He sits up on his knees, reaches out and grabs the condom. Harry’s starfished across the bed, his eyes closed, breathing deeply. It’s so dramatic that Louis would laugh if he weren’t so turned on. Instead he opens the condom with slippery fingers and rolls it on his aching dick. He squirts out more lube and covers his dick with it, and then he strokes himself a few times because he’s _so fucking hard_ and he’s been neglecting himself.  
  
“Louuuu,” Harry whines, and when Louis looks at him he’s propped up on his elbows again and squinting at Louis in something almost like a glare. “I’m feeling left out,” he says, and he’s pouting, and. Jesus.  
  
Louis surges up to kiss him, just quickly, because his pout is so cute and it’s been far too long since Louis kissed his mouth. Harry responds eagerly, and while he’s there Louis grasps Harry's knees and pulls him down, so that his legs wrap around Louis and his arse is brushing against Louis’s cock.  
  
“Now, please, now,” Harry says between kisses. Louis fucking _loves_ hearing him beg, but he can’t hold off much either, so he reaches down and positions his cock and then – fuck, then he’s _in_ and he can’t handle how good it feels.  
  
Nothing in his life has ever felt this good. Nobody else could ever compare – Louis feels like he’s been having sex wrong for years, because as he thrusts into Harry, sparks shoot up his spine and his whole body fucking tingles. Harry clings to his arms, his waist, his back, his hands roving over Louis’s body but his grip never loosening. Louis props himself up with one hand and holds Harry’s jaw with the other, kissing him fervently.  
  
Harry’s clearing enjoying it too, he’s moaning and panting just as much as he’s kissing Louis back, but Louis is pretty positive hasn’t hit Harry’s spot yet. He alternates angles on every thrust, trying to find it, and when he finally hits it Harry’s whole body freezes. He’s still for a moment, his mouth open and eyes screwed shut, clenched around Louis, and it’s the most breathtakingly beautiful moment Louis’s ever experienced in the middle of fucking someone.  
  
His hand had moved from Harry’s jaw and was holding him in place under his arm, Louis’s thumb stretched out enough to rub over Harry’s nipple, but as he’s thrusting against Harry’s spot he takes that hand and trails it down to Harry’s cock. Louis strokes him in time with his thrusts and they’re moaning, breathing and kissing in synch and it’s just. This is it. This is it for Louis. He never wants to do anything else.  
  
He’s not sure how long they last, because it feels way too short, but at the same time he’s surprised he didn’t come as soon as he got inside Harry. He feels his orgasm building, but he’s so lost in Harry that it almost takes him by surprise. He’s so close, but he wants Harry to come first, and he thinks he’s almost there.  
  
Louis rubs his fingers over the head of Harry’s cock as he grinds against his spot, and mumbles, “C’mon, baby, come for me.”  
  
Harry gasps and his eyes squeeze shut, his face red and his hair everywhere, and he comes. The thought that it’s basically on command, coupled with Harry’s fucking _face_ and the way he clenches around Louis again, tips Louis over the edge as well. He bites Harry’s shoulder as he comes, his whole body white noise, his brain focused entirely on his dick and the general feeling of _Harry_.  
  
When he comes to, he realises he’s collapsed on top of Harry and hasn’t even pulled out. He doesn’t _want_ to, which is ridiculous, so he only gives himself a moment of being ridiculous and enjoying still being attached to Harry and then he pulls out. Harry groans, and so does Louis, because it’s like an aftershock of pleasure to his oversensitive dick. He takes off the condom quickly and drops it down the side of the bed, figuring he’ll try to remember to deal with it later. He slumps back on top of Harry, who’s looking pink-cheeked and comatose, and then realises there’s come, sweat and lube all up Harry’s body and if he doesn’t get cleaned up there’ll be even more of a mess tomorrow.  
  
“Ugh,” Louis groans, and reaches for the bedside table, grasping at the tissues. He swipes tissues over Harry’s torso, so that he’s still sticky but not badly so, and drops the tissues down the side of the bed as well.  
  
“Thanks,” Harry says, pursing his lips for a kiss, and Louis smiles and leans in. Harry seems content to lie there and be kissed, and Louis finds it absolutely adorable that he’s basically wiped out. It’s also a pretty huge ego boost, if he’s honest.  
  
“’M gon’ fall asleep,” Harry mumbles into his mouth after a bit, and Louis laughs and gives him a couple more kisses before leaning back.  
  
“How d’you wanna sleep?” Louis asks. Exhaustion’s hitting him as well, and he’d like nothing better than a good snooze wrapped around Harry.  
  
“’M th’ li’l spoon,” Harry slurs, turning his back to Louis and pulling one of Louis’s arms with him. Louis huffs a laugh and wraps both arms around Harry, nestles his face between Harry’s shoulder blades and knows there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.  
  
*  
  
Louis wakes up with his face buried in Harry’s curls and one of his arms dead asleep. Harry’s still the little spoon, which means he’s been sleeping on Louis’s arm. Louis pries it out from under Harry slowly, careful not to wake him up. When he’s free, he moves onto his back and shakes his arm awake. Harry rolls over too, chasing Louis in his sleep, his brows furrowed. He curls into Louis’s side and Louis smiles down at him fondly.  
  
He watches Harry sleep for too long, probably. In an effort to stop feeling creepy, he grabs his phone off the bedside table. His battery’s low, but he’s got enough to browse through Instagram, Snapchat and Facebook, and catch up on what his family have been up to. He also sends his mum a quick Facebook message, in reply to the one she sent at midnight Boston time. It mostly consists of ‘ _met a boy !!!!!!_ ’ but he thinks she’ll appreciate it.  
  
In a weird stroke of luck, Harry wakes up properly just as Louis’s phone’s about to die.  
  
“Mmmm, morning,” Harry says, his voice like gravel. Louis’s dick stirs just at the sound of it.  
  
“Morning,” Louis says. “How d’you feel?”  
  
Harry smiles up at him. “Like I had the best shag of my life last night. You?”  
  
Louis grins. “About the same.”  
  
Harry stretches, then falls back into his place curled around Louis’s side. “D’you mind if we just cuddle for a bit? I don’t want to get up yet.”  
  
“Mm, me neither,” Louis says. His hand makes its way into Harry’s hair, and he starts to gently untangle his curls.  
  
“Maybe we should’ve talked about this last night,” Harry mumbles into Louis’s chest. “But what are your plans after this? After Boston, I mean.”  
  
“I dunno,” Louis says. “Back to New York, probably. Liam and I haven’t actually booked anything, and Niall’s got a place there.”  
  
“I like the sound of that,” Harry says. “If you’re around New York for the next few weeks, then we could hang out more.”  
  
Louis’s heart swoops. He loves every single confirmation that Harry feels the same way he does. “Well I love the sound of that,” he says. “And then... when you’re back in London, we can get you a meeting with my bosses.”  
  
Harry tilts his head up, so he’s looking up at him. He’s frowning. “Um. Maybe I should’ve said something earlier,” he says. “But I’m not sure if I want to sign to a major label.”  
  
Louis stills. He forces himself to be casual, to keep playing with Harry’s hair, even if his whole body is screaming _but no!!!  
  
_ “It’s just,” Harry sighs. “I don’t know, I want to be successful, and yeah, the idea of selling out arenas or stadiums is amazing, but I... I’m kind of terrified of fame? I don’t want to just be famous. I want to, like. Mean something.”  
  
“You can still have integrity and be signed to a major label, H,” Louis says softly.  
  
“Well, yeah,” Harry says. “I, um. I also wouldn’t want to be in the closet.”  
  
“You don’t have to be,” Louis says. “There are some out queer musicians who’re doing really well.”  
  
Harry just looks at him. His expression says it all, half scrunched up with an eyebrow raise. _Come the fuck on_ , he’s saying. Louis snorts.  
  
“Okay,” he says. “Sony aren’t actually known for being good about sexuality. You have a point there.”  
  
“Yeah,” Harry says. “At least I know Ed will want to sign with you, if you’ll have him, so it’s not all bad news?”  
  
“Of course we’ll have him,” Louis says quietly. “I’m just... not gonna lie, I’d love to sign you, too.”  
  
“I want to,” Harry says. “God, you have no idea how grateful I am for the opportunity. I just... I dunno. It’s fucking terrifying. I think an indie label is much more my speed. Too bad you don’t work for one of them.”  
  
“Maybe it’s better I don’t,” Louis says slowly. “I mean, yeah, I want to show the world how bright you shine, and I kind of can’t stand the idea that I won’t be the one to do that.” He pauses, thinking about it. “But... it’s unethical, yeah? Me being your agent and also having, y’know, this.”  
  
He uses his spare hand to wave at their entwined bodies. Harry curls himself tighter around Louis’s legs and torso, as if to say what he thinks about _y’know, this_. Louis’s heart melts a bit.  
  
“So if you were to sign with someone else... which, I mean, I’d help you find a label you liked and get you in the door, of course, it’s the least I can do... but if you weren’t signed with me. Then this wouldn’t be unethical. And we could...” Louis’s voice goes soft and quiet without him meaning to. “We could do this again, maybe.”  
  
Harry looks him in the eye, and he’s smiling his starlight smile. “We could do more than this, maybe,” he says.  
  
Louis can’t control the massive smile that takes over his face. They’re on the same page. They have been the whole time, about this thing between them anyway.  
  
Louis feels a bit like meeting Harry was fate. What are the chances he’d meet someone who’s also from up North, who also moved to London, who’s also staying in New York, who’s also spending New Years in Boston? He wouldn’t even be in Boston if it weren’t for Niall. (That sends his brain into an odd spiral; meeting Niall might be the catalyst for meeting Harry, weird.) This thing with Harry already feels fucking special, but all of those ways their paths could’ve crossed make it even more so. Louis feels like he was destined to spend this New Years with Harry, and maybe that does mean he’s supposed to spend the year with him as well.  
  
He doesn’t know what the future holds. He’s pretty sure he’s going to spend the rest of his time in the States following Harry around New York, and he’s pretty sure that’ll continue when they go back to London. He thinks he could really have a chance at something real with Harry. But really, he has no idea what’s going to happen here.  
  
The only thing he knows for certain is he’ll move heaven and earth to keep this boy. He has such high hopes for the new year.

 

**Author's Note:**

> that was just a jumble of cliches and hyperbole, wasn't it??? lol any comments/kudos/etc are hugely hugely appreciated. there's also a tumblr post [here](http://nobodymoves.tumblr.com/post/155194504323/promise-not-to-fade-away-harrylouis-99k) if you feel like reblogging it.
> 
> thank you for reading!!!! happy new years!!!! i hope 2017 is better for everyone <3


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